The Cold Cash War

14

Judy Simmons languished picturesquely in her chair, gazing deeply into the candle of their now habitual table in the dimly lit restaurant. In turn, Fred studied her cautiously as he sipped his coffee. She was beyond a doubt one of the most dangerous people he had ever encountered.

The two negotiators were enjoying their traditional meditative silence after dinner, a brief breathing spell before they plunged back into the move and countermove of bargaining over after-dinner drinks.

She was striking, the kind of beauty that turned heads on the street. Yet hidden in that enticing frame was a mind as sharp as a straight razor.

Fred had been frequently frustrated in his dealings with Ivan. The man's stubbornness and steadfast refusal to venture information beyond his instructions had been maddening at times. But his successor, this lovely little armful, was a cat of a different color. She would smile coyly and match him argument for argument, innuendo for innuendo, and mousetrap for mousetrap.

After four weeks, their talks were at a firm stalemate, neither showing any real advantage or handicap. The original swarm of jokes from his teammate about his "old man immune to the witch's charms" were slowly giving way to impatient proddings and mumbled accusations of his "deliberately prolonging the meetings." He was by no means immune to her mystique, but neither was he throwing the bout. The iron will and keen perception he had noted in the open meetings was even more prevalent when encountered head-on. No sir! She earned her victories, but she was lovely.

"Fred." The voice jarred him out of his reverie. "Can I talk to you about something? Apart from our usual dueling?"

Fred was mildly startled. Something was up. She was breaking pattern. Over his years of negotiating, he had become an unknowing expert on body language, and her whole being expressed a major change. Where she usually leaned back, maintaining personal distance, stretching occasionally, like a well-fed jungle cat, she was now leaning forward on her elbows, her whole body radiating a concentrated intensity. And her eyes-she was usually expressive. But now, her eyes were distant, either looking at the table in front of her or somewhere past his shoulder. It was almost as if she were embarrassed by what she was about to say. In the entire time he had covertly studied her at the meetings, and in the last four weeks of close personal contact, he had never seen her like this. Whatever was coming, it was coming from someplace besides her negotiator's instructions and guidelines.

"It's about the international currency thing that's come up. You were rather outspoken in the meeting today with your views against it."

"That's right. It's a half-baked idea. The costs for running a system like that would be astronomical. Why, just to safeguard against counterfeiting..."

She interrupted with an annoyed wave of her hand as if she was shooing a bothersome fly.

"I know. I know. I heard you at the meeting today. You make nice speeches, but this time...this time I think you're barking up the wrong tree."

"Oh, bullshit! Just because your whiz kids came up with the idea doesn't mean..."

"Will you listen to me! I don't like it either!"

Their eyes locked in angry glares. Silence reigned for a few moments before Fred registered what she had said and his anger gave way to embarrassment.

"Sorry. You didn't say anything at the meeting."

"I know. I couldn't believe it was really happening. It was like a nightmare and I kept waiting to wake up."

She stared at her coffee. Fred waited respectfully for her to regain her composure.

"Fred, you talk about the costs, but have you really thought it through? Have you really stopped to think about what would happen if the corporations got together and issued their own world-wide currency?"

She looked at him directly now, her dark eyes deep, almost pleading, as she continued.

"Money makes the world go 'round, and the governments issue the money. If we start issuing our own money, it might make international business a lot simpler and stabilize costs, but the government won't stand for it. They'll be all over us with everything they've got. And it won't be just one or two governments, it'll be all of them. Every single one of 'em united to tear the corporations down. I wouldn't be surprised if the C-Block didn't deal themselves in too. That's why I'm against it!"

Fred considered her words.

"Do you really think that would happen?"

"Do you see anything that would keep it from happening?"

Fred started to sip his coffee, then set it down again.

"All the nations...when...I'm going to have to think about that one."

He looked at her, and realized she was still staring into space.

"Hey! Judy!" His words were soft and concerned.

She looked at him and he realized her eyes were brimming with tears.

"Hey, this thing really has you scared, doesn't it?"

Instead of answering, she rose and fled to the ladies room.

Fred signaled for the check and pondered the situation. Well, he had always wondered what it would take to crack that controlled exterior. Now he knew.

The waiter swept by, leaving the small black tray with the tab on it in his wake.

Fred stared at it thoughtfully for a full minute, then dug out his wallet and carefully counted out a small stack of bills onto the tray. In a twinkling it disappeared with a small murmur of thanks from the waiter, and he lit a cigarette and settled down to wait.

A few minutes later, Judy appeared, face pale but her makeup intact or repaired.

"Sorry about that, Fred, but I..."

"Shall we go now?" He rose casually, as if nothing had happened or been said.

"But what about the check?"

"I took care of it."

"Oh, Fred, it was my turn to pay."

"I took care of it."

"But it's going onto the expense account anyway..."

"I took care of it."

She blinked at him in sudden realization.

"Oh."

"I'm taking you back to the hotel. You need a nightcap...somewhere where there aren't other people around."